Animus
by spoons are for marmalade skies
Summary: A story of love, lies and friendship... Peter's version of the Hogwarts years and his manipulation of the Marauders' trust. Featuring Bellatrix and her DeathEater cronies, woo! death. woo! destruction.
1. Animagus

_**Animus **(n-ms)_

_A feeling of ill will arousing active hostility;_

_An attitude that informs one's actions; disposition;_

_In Jungian psychology, the masculine inner personality as present in women._

* * *

**I. Animagus**

He blamed Bellatrix for not warning him but more so Sirius for making his position a pitiable one. Once he could have shaken it off. Now, he was tied. Every day he regretted his decisions. He was trapped with a bunch of idiots.

"Hash browns," James said, as Sirius helped himself to all of them.

"Hash browns are a wonderful thing." Sirius was consuming them at an alarming rate. Peter rolled his eyes toward the ceiling and said,

"Hash. Browns."

"Hash."

"Browns."

"Niiiice."

"Don't be sarcastic, Remus, I know your true feelings."

"Fuuuuck yooooou…" Remus clutched at his head before it had a chance to land on the table. "I seek – "

"Death?" James shrugged at Remus' glare. "I thought it was a plausible assumption."

Peter jumped at a loud noise from behind, and James swore.

"Let's all just calm down, kids," Sirius said. "Admittedly we suffered a close call last night but it sure was fun, hey?"

Silence.

"Hey?"

* * *

Once, when Peter was very young, his mother had sat him down and preached to him the advantages of control. Control of yourself, control of a situation. Never let things get too out of hand, she had said. Don't make my mistakes.

He was a Gryffindor. He was small. To avoid trouble with the Slytherins he knew he would have to impress them, without alienating everyone else. That was hard, but he did it. He was proud of the line he toed.

Peter was not the brightest child. He knew this; others had informed him of it. He knew he would have to impress the Ravenclaws, somehow. Sheer diligence won the Hufflepuffs over.

He was kindly. He was liked. It wasn't unanimous, of course. It was just enough.

He was never well-known. Just well-liked, well enough.

From the first the Slytherins gave him an ultimatum. Us or them. What a difficult choice for Peter.

* * *

Back in the third year, Peter's Slytherin friends escorted him, trembling, to a meeting with a prominent Death-Eater, Bellatrix Lestrange, née Black. She made him a comfortable proposition: choose both. Take both sides, use them. All she asked was unfaltering loyalty and the rest would be taken care of.

His first project was a neat deal in which Golden Boy Peter Pettigrew befriends the famed outcasts Sirius Black, Bellatrix's disowned baby cousin; and James Potter, the clownish son of out-spoken Aurors, who were later killed in action. The two were bright boys looking for trouble, particularly of the illegal sort.

His timing impeccable, Peter had just won over James when they discovered a werewolf in their midst. James and Sirius jumped at the chance for a bit of fun.

Because Sirius had yet to trust Peter, and showed little sign of abating, Peter tended to watch. In this case, the boys were looking to torment the werewolf considerably before taking him on.

"I like Lupin," James said, for the sixth time by Peter's count.

"So we hear."

"He looks…" James began thoughtfully. Sirius climbed through the portrait hole behind him.

"Dangerous?"

"No…"

"Heartfelt? Fastidious? Gentle? Mean?"

"Do go on," James said sarcastically.

"Ferocious," Sirius said with a growl, clawing the air. "Gosh, I'd like to be able to turn into something."

"Intelligent?" Peter muttered, and James laughed. They were behind the couch where Remus Lupin lay, looking decidedly ill, so Sirius kept up his loud monologue as they sat down.

"Like a dog or something. A big, sort of, doggish thing."

"You could really wolf it down," James said. He slapped the floor in appreciation of his own humour, and the sound was echoed by a creak from the couch springs. Remus was awake.

"How about a tiger?"

"Don't like cats."

"Or an eagle?"

"What about a chicken?" Peter said innocently, turning a blind eye to the scowl issued from Sirius' direction. James coughed.

"We don't talk about that, Pete," he said.

"Sorry."

"No problemo."

"Are you about finished?" Sirius asked loudly. Peter jumped to attention; James assumed a languid pose and said,

"Continue."

"Thank you."

"What kind of an animal do you think I would turn into?"

Sirius contemplated that, and then said, "Vampire."

"That's not an animal."

"Humans are animals."

"You should try turning into one of those sometime," James said, "you won't be disappointed."

"Har de har har. I'm not kidding. Think of that, nicely scheduled after-hour – well, cannibalism of a sort, but no worse than, say, a werewolf for instance."

"You're babbling."

"Thanks for the catch, slick."

"I think I'd like a pet werewolf," Peter said, surprising them. Sirius made a slashing motion with his wand.

"I'd kill it and make it into a rug."

"Isn't that rather inhumane?"

"Shut it, Potter."

"I mean really, as far as I know they have specific genders. Can we please refer with the correct pronoun application?"

Sirius stared.

"Unless it was an eunuch. What do you call an eunuch, anyway?"

"Nothing?" Sirius squinted out the window. "Have you ever even met one?"

"Dunno, never asked," James said. "Doesn't really come up in idle chit-chat. 'Hi, I'm an eunuch, my friends call me Marce.'"

"Something like that actually happened to me once, I was on this train when – "

James waved him down before he got too lost in his thoughts. "Can we please focus?"

"On what, sorry?"

A snore issued from behind, and James scowled. "Never mind, we'll corner him later. But what say you to this. Let's do it."

"Let a vampire chomp us?"

"Turn into animals."

"I already have," Sirius said, bored. "Twice this morning, in fact."

"Lupin needs company. A couple – three," James amended, nodding at Peter, "smart-looking Animagi would do wonders for his complexion."

There was a moment in which they all considered that.

"He has been looking a bit peaky," Sirius put in.

"I like him," James said. They cornered him later.

* * *

What began as a test of Peter's ability to wile his way through tight situations, ended in a rather more literal version. Not only would he be spending Christmas with the Potters, he was learning to turn into a rat. Bellatrix would be sure to relay her pleasure to the Dark Lord.

The Slytherins' deference was enough for him. He had them all now.

* * *


	2. Obscured

**II. Obscured**

"It was close, I'm not denying the fact." 

"Someone might have died." Remus was effectively masking any expression he might have, with a subtle arm to cover his face. James shook him by the shoulder.

"Everything went fine."

"After we knocked you out, anyway."

"And made that Muggle go far away and forget everything."

"Bloody git, walking around at night."

"And it's not like it took long to bury the bodies."

Remus' eyes appeared between his fingers. "You're joking."

"Exaggerating at the very least," Sirius said cheerfully. "More hash browns?"

"You ate them all," Peter said.

Sirius did some fast math. "We can make it by the kitchens if we go through Gregory the Smarmy."

"I don't actually like hash browns that much," Remus said. "And I'm not hungry."

"That is a drawback. Why don't we meet you in Transfig?"

Remus shrugged.

"Jamie?"

James knew better than to be concerned. They left the other two to their own devices.

Peter turned the page of his newspaper.

"So," said Remus. "Reckon we should be getting on?"

Peter said "No" around a mouthful of toast. Remus looked around, finally catching the eye of a girl toward the end of the Hufflepuff table.

"Why don't I leave you here," Remus said, "and catch you up later."

"If you're late you're suffering another bout of malaria. Don't get it wrong this time."

"Doesn't matter, the teachers know we're lying. Different purpose is all. I do feel a bit off-colour."

"Yes, but, if you're going to sneak off with some girl you've got to sneak off with her, not blatantly declare your intentions."

"It's still sneaking if they don't know _why_ I'm skipping out. What do you know, anyway?"

"Nothing. No, scratch that, everything."

"I'll see you later," Remus said. He ambled off, and Peter continued reading. There had been a new attack, the Fawcetts. By the looks of it that was who Remus was off to console this time, a niece or something. Oh, the irony.

Peter ignored his house-mates as their curious glances dropped off. Just Peter left, no marvy Marauders to worship. He turned the page.

* * *


	3. Denied

**III. Denied**

Once, when asked where his inspiration came from, James replied, "My mum". It was the natural response; it sounded like he was deep, cared about others, and had a wonderful relationship with his mother. 

From Peter's experience, none of these were true. James was a prick to the enth degree.

"Peter," James told his so-called friend, on a warm day in June, "do you know how much I love you?"

"Less than Padfoot, more than Snivellus?"

James laughed. "See, this is why you're so fun to hang around. You're quick. Really sharp. Sharper than most."

"What do you want?"

"Come to Hogsmeade with us? We're going tonight and I know you need to study but we have a really, really great plan that involves you in your –" He glanced around to see if anyone was listening to them – "lesser form, you know, can't be done without you and all that."

Peter dug his toe into the dirt. Bellatrix would kill him if he didn't reply to that letter NOW.

But on the other hand, they did need him. Not to mention it was bound to be a riot, and might result in valuable information… "All right, then," he said.

"You're a pal." James slapped him on the back. "We'll see you back here at midnight."

And he was gone again. Remus sidled up next to him.

"Care for some company?"

Peter shrugged. "If you like. I was just going to read up on some things now, for exams, you know, as I won't have time later."

"You don't have to go," Remus said. "It's not the end of the world if you skip out."

"It's fine, Remus," Peter said flatly.

"You sure?"

Peter nodded.

"All right, then. Well – listen, if you're just going to be studying, I really should patrol."

Peter plopped down in the nearest armchair with his books and extracted the letter from Bellatrix. His skill with concealment charms was possibly his most guarded secret; he had bewitched it to look like a page of notes to anyone but himself. Pulling out some parchment, he scratched away at a response.

"Pete," came a voice from across the room. He glanced up to see Sirius' head poking through the Portrait Hole. "Prongs and I were just wondering if you minded bringing your frisbee collection tonight."

"Why?"

"It's part of the Plan."

"You know those frisbees are practically heirlooms, right?"

Sirius waved that away. "Yeah, yeah, we're not going to do anything to them. We just need a model for our prototype."

"Of…?"

Sirius winked. "Can't tell ya. Just bring 'em, okay?"

His head disappeared. Peter went back to the letter.

"Pete," came another voice from the Portrait Hole. He looked up, annoyed. "Can you bring your wombat, too?"

"Fine," he said shortly, not really listening. He went back to the letter.

"Pete," came yet another voice; this one female. "Oh, Peter, I want you. I crave your lips. I crave your touch."

His head snapped up. That sounded like –

"If only you had Sirius Black's devastating personality and sterling good looks!"

This was followed by loud, smacking kisses, which was followed by a loud smack and James' indignant voice.

"Stop kissing me, Padfoot, for Christ's sake! How to carry a joke too far, eurgh."

Peter went back to his letter as James stomped in, wiping his mouth and muttering, "Blegh. Blegh."

Sirius bounded in after him. "Oh, Peter," he said, still impersonating Hailey Abbott, who Peter had been chasing with no results for the past six months. "It's just incredible that I can come so close to you by hooking up with all your friends."

"Shut up," Peter said, crossing out a word. Sirius pointed his wand at his throat to remove the voice-over charm.

"Give it up, Wormtail, she's a scarlet woman if ever I saw one." Sirius bent over, bracing his palms on his knees. "Are you mad at me? Did you really think it was her?"

"No," he said, "I'm _trying_ to concentrate."

"This isn't to say she's out of your league or anything," Sirius went on, oblivious, "the fact that she doesn't know you exist means nothing. Well, it might mean she needs glasses. And that she's looking over your head, rather than, oh, at your manly chest." In case Peter didn't catch on, Sirius tapped his own chest, which was undeniably manly.

"Thanks, Black, I needed that." Peter rolled up the letter, resigned to getting no farther, and spread out to listen to Sirius talk. Slowly but surely, the chairs around them filled up, as more and more younger students came to listen to him. He wasn't saying anything of particular value; Sirius himself wasn't any more interested in his own words than he was the girls around him. And Peter, in his infinite wisdom, went to sleep.

When he woke up it was time to go to Hogsmeade.

* * *


End file.
